


My moon

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [14]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Mush, Love Confessions, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, diverges in season 4, kissing in the moonlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Brienne overhears Cersei calling her an "ugly cow" in a conversation with Jaime. Knowing she's upset, he rushes to pacify her.





	My moon

**Author's Note:**

> Note : Edited to correct a few typos and other errors.

“Try and stay away from that great lumbering beast, Jaime,” came Cersei’s threatening voice through the gap in the door. “The gossip around the city’s been thriving with rumours about your alleged relationship with that ugly cow, and they call her your whore--”

Brienne gasped loudly before she could stop herself, then regretting her mistake she withdrew from the door, hoping neither of the twins had seen her, her purpose of paying Jaime a visit to his quarters no longer of any significance.

“Lady Brienne,” Jaime called out from the other side, and she could hear footsteps marching toward the entrance, but in no state to face him nor bear further witness to the insults his sister seemed to relish showering upon her, she rushed out of there, not looking behind her, not waiting to hear him out, wanting nothing but the comforting shield of her solitude for the rest of the evening.

Left with no desire to linger anywhere near here, she left the keep on a quest for seclusion, and having no place else to mull over her thoughts in peace, she set out on a brisk walk to the Godswood, hoping the serene air and the scenic calm of the waters flanking the sacred spot would do her nerves some good. No one would find her there, nor would any insults or taunts turn up to ruin her tranquillity. 

Finding herself where she’d been on her last visit with Jaime, she came to a halt, taking a moment to absorb her surroundings. Twilight had bid goodbye and dusk had set in, the full moon shining upon the city in all its splendour, its beauty reflected in the blackness of the water below. Once she’d come to rest, her mind began racing. The conversation she’d overheard was an eye-opener, a harsh message from the gods that she had no right to even think about him, let alone stupidly falling in love with him.

His affections, she’d never be a recipient of, not as long as his sister lived, not until his heart would let anyone else in. And even if he did open the door for someone other than his twin, an _ ugly cow _ had no place in the life of a handsome prince like him.

His _ whore_, was all she’d be known as, her heart sinking when Cersei’s words rang in her head, reminding her of the rumours that had been doing the rounds. Stories that she’d bedded the Kingslayer had been afloat, some of them going so far as to suggest that she was with his child.

His _ wife, _she could never have the fortune to be, and that was the eventual end of the mess she'd entangled herself in. Her helpless longing for him had hit her hard, and often in the recent past she'd been to herself, nursing her emptiness and ruing the weakness of her heart, torn apart by the anguish the impending gloom of parting with him had left in her.

“Brienne,” said a soft voice behind her, cracking her shell and breaking into her internal battle, his abrupt presence startling her out of her turmoil. A little tentative, he seemed to sound, and a little nervous in the way he uttered her name.

“I wish to be alone,” she said, choking on her emotions as she fought to keep her voice steady and her composure intact.

“And do what?”

She turned to face him, cursing herself for having hopelessly lost her heart to him. “I’m here to spend some time in the company of the moon, to admire its glory and light from a distance,” she flung the truth at him, albeit stubborn not to give him a direct answer.

“Why?” he prodded her, dissatisfied by the reply, his eyes shining in the bright white glow of the beautifully lit night.

“Because I can never have it,” she sighed, resigned to her fate. “So all I can do is pine for it from afar as it can never be mine.”

He drew forward. “Why do you think it’s unattainable?”

“Because it’s beautiful,” she cried, Cersei’s words piercing every vein in her body like a dagger, “and I’m ugly, a great lumbering--”

“I’m sorry,” he cut in, his tone uncharacteristically fond, “for everything she said. If it helps, I told her to shut the fuck up.”

Brienne shook her head. “She spoke the truth. Besides, it doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore except that I have to leave at the earliest with Sansa,” she announced her intent, trying to sound as nonchalant as she could. She’d made up her mind. She could have no more of him if she had to get on with her life. “Ser Jaime, I wish to take her and leave tomorrow--”

“Tomorrow?”

“I can’t wait any longer,” she explained, in a hurry to get the hell out of his city, and him out of her mind, heart and every bit of her, “not even a day--”

He peered into her eyes, searching for answers she didn’t want to reveal, confessions she was reluctant to crumble into. “Do the rumours bother you so much, wench?”

She tried to feign indifference. “I don’t care about them.”

With another step in her direction, he was within reach of her breath, the warmth of his breath ensnaring her senses, the scent of the leather and sweat wafting off him filling her with a heady sense of intoxication. “What do you care about, Brienne?”

“Nothing,” she attempted to ward off his question, fidgeting with her nails in a desperate attempt to quell the storm raging inside her.

He leaned closer and whispered into her face, “The moon, I suppose, hmm?”

Out of breath and her heart someplace at her throat, she wanted to cut loose from this unexpected awkwardness. “I have to go.” Side-stepping him, she was about to leave, when he caught her wrist. 

“Stay,” he implored, pulling her back to where she’d been standing, “because I’m here for the same reason as you are.”

The mystery of his words failed to unfold in her head, her brain, tired and incapable of processing such unnecessarily enigmatic statements. “I don’t understand--”

“The moon, Brienne,” he began to softly elaborate, his voice oozing tenderness. Taking her hand, he gazed deeply into her eyes. “_ My _ moon,” he went on, his honeyed tone music to her ears, “the one who has captured my heart and enslaved my soul.”

This couldn’t be happening. He was holding her hand. He was looking at her as if she were the most beautiful creation of the gods. This had to be a dream. Or it might be the gods playing an unkind trick on her. “I--I don’t,” was all she could stutter, forcing herself to avoid jumping to conclusions, to refrain from delving into possibilities that might never become reality.

“The one I look upon as _ my _ moon is the most beautiful woman I’ve known,” he exaggerated, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Liar,” she complained, recalling the insults he’d once hurled at her.

“Not one of the prettiest maidens of Westeros can stand in comparison to her pretty heart,” he continued to compliment her paying no heed to her objection, “nor can the deeds of the bravest knights come even close to what she’s done for me.”

She gulped, fully perceiving what he meant, though afraid to cave in and believe him, worried this might just end up being another of her achingly frequent dreams. “What--”

“My whore, they call her today, the idiots who bear no hint of the sanctity of the relationship she shares with me,” he said, his face shadowed by a mix of anger and sadness. “If only I could’ve told her earlier that I’ve dreamed of placing my cloak upon her shoulders every night for the last countless nights that have passed.”

She discreetly pinched her thigh to ascertain that this wasn’t the figment of her reverie. “Ser Jaime--”

In response to her doubt, he merely kissed her, and she was rooted to the spot for a while, still dazed that this was happening. His lips pressed into hers, and her senses told her that this was real. His mouth moved against hers, laying tender touches at first, his softness soon giving way to a dire urgency and a helpless aggression when his kisses turned into a fiery culmination of the passion that had been simmering within him. His rough lips, his delicious tongue, his arms around her, his fingers raking through her hair - all of these were proof that he really was there. 

That he was hers. 

He was the gods’ blessings to her, and his implicit proposal, perhaps, a compensation for the difficult times men had given her all her life. 

Basking in the moonlight, they stood in the deserted woods, wrapped around each other, kissing like a pair of young lovers who’d sneaked away from the world, their lips locked in a blissful union, inseparable for now, inseparable for the eternity to follow.

The eternity that would soon have them bound together, one at last, until it lasted.

“Marry me, Brienne,” he properly proposed to her, her hand in his when they’d unlocked their never-ending embrace. “Allow me to take home my moon.” 

“I’m no moon, Ser Jaime,” she bashfully told him, squeezing his hand. “But I will be your wife,” she added, picturing Septa Roelle's astonished face as she leaned in to seal his lips with hers. “Blessed is this night, and blessed are these woods, for the gods have blessed me with _my_ moon at last.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'm no romantic (not at all), but I've been obsessed with the moon for a while and this is an impulsive result of that.  
Thank you for reading and putting up with my obsessions :)  



End file.
